Capital One

The Phone Call
I have just had "The Phone Call" from what would have been my future-ex-employers in two years telling me "I am afraid you have not been successful". 


This is the first time I have ever had such a phone call in my professional career. I should have trawled internet job forums for advice about how to handle such a call. I had an awful sense of foreboding about all of this anyway, I should have taken a pre-emptive strike on-line to better prepare myself.  I am trying to remember if, like a wounded teenager I used the phrase "whatever". I am hoping it was just my internal monologue and I did not actually articulate it.  Well, whatever. Like I give a fuck now.


Why
Apparently this had nothing to do with my skills or experience. I am comforting myself by telling myself that those skills are pretty much faultless and this job would have involved me taking a £10,000 pay cut thereby DE-SKILLING ME . Of course I am in no way bitter. Allegedly this is to do with the fact that I was not enthusiastic enough. I think her words will cut me forever (more than a manically depressed EMO can cut themselves)  " The other candidate was more enthusiastic than you".  What I should of asked, but did not was :


DID THEY TURN UP WITH 20 FUCKING BANANAS? DID THEY? How much more enthusiasm do you need?


Along with the rubbish reasoning and rationale of these charlatans what I am also quite peeved about is the whole interview process cost me about £200 which I borrowed (travel expenses, producing materials etc) and because no one at the Dole Office told me I could claim travel expenses or get support I am stuck paying that back.I can not even claim it back retrospectively. I must remember to thank my Capital One card with its' 30% interest rate for its' ongoing support in these times which are starting to turn a little bit bleak. Or rather than thanking my beloved credit card, I could adopt a pseudonym of "Pauline" and go to Argos (JSA pending) and stock up on some lovely jewellery from the Elizabeth Duke range and march down the Dole Office and start a demoniacal unemployed rage aided and abetted with some Special Brew.  


Misplaced Anger
It is really quite insulting they bought enthusiasm into this. I am well qualified and have always been very passionate about my work, to the point where some people I know would openly and actively dread me turning up at a social occasion because I would (in their unenthusiastic and dreary opinions)  kill it with entertaining love/hate tales of my vocation. If they hated it so much they could have stopped inviting me.Thus I concluded they perversely enjoyed my Catherine Tate style sketches.


My anger is clearly misplaced. I should probably read some shit about CBT on-line - maybe that can help me become a better, more well-balanced, overenthusiastic and employable person? 


Or I could just get the hell over myself and apply for other jobs? 


I think I will watch some Made In Chelsea later to make me feel better about myself, that will reignite my impetus to succeed. They are my peers after all. 




Moving On


In other news the pub quiz team I am a now forced to be a part time member of (due to lack of funds because of a lack of JSA landing in my bank account) has successfully secured 3rd and 2nd place in the last two consecutive weeks. At least when I do get my JSA I can go to the pub quiz and potentially feel like a winner again. This evening I am going to go and hunt down some friends, who will see my teary eyes (NOT ACTUALLY CRYING)  and not judge me when I neck £20 worth of shit pikey cider courtesy of Capital One. I am sure they will be happy I will not be talking about work. Instead I will talk about unemployment.  In which case I am sure they will wish I was working again. 


God Bless Capital One and God Bless Cider.